


Of Almonds and Flowers

by l_e_crivainsolitaire



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, Free Verse, M/M, Poetry, this is my emotional dump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_e_crivainsolitaire/pseuds/l_e_crivainsolitaire
Summary: Short, quick, drabbles that from different perspectives that doesn't have a central story. Written in poetry that read like thoughts and monologues, sometimes conversations.





	1. One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more for myself than anything else.

Because a god somewhere had mercy in his heart, let him suffer the punishment later. But he grows weary of tragic heroes and gave one another chance.

In a word, Achilles’ world lights up, whispered promises breathe life to all around him. Flowers blossom on Patroclus’ head. Where else would the most beautiful of crowns sit but on his most beloved?

For a time, peace sits on their skin—fingers tracing lines of curiosity and familiarity. The taste of fruit and honey linger on their lips. Their words caress so gently, it makes men and gods bend in awe. And when they laugh, so full and bright, spring bursts around them singing sweet songs of love and joy.

“I am happy,” Achilles says and when Patroclus smiles, he radiates life and flowers turn away from shame.

 

But what do they say about fate?

 

Patroclus, skin of almonds and flowers, rot.

Achilles burns the world as he weeps.

 

A god somewhere, weary of tragic heroes, takes his punishment.

 

 

_-Storyteller_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always thought, perhaps, there is a god or goddess somewhere in Olympus thinking how sad this was and tried to give them another chance. But yah know, fate.


	2. Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiron observes from afar.

Chiron knows

as old as he is

 

How nothing tastes

as sweet

and right

as how their names sound

on each other's tongue

 

How pride rests

on pretty lips

ready to 

touch

the greatest of men

 

How fear sits 

on olive skin

watching 

for golden curls

drenched in blood

 

How gods play

with golden sons

and tragic

lovers

 

Chiron knew

as old as he is

Chiron knew

and let them be.

 

 

_-Wisdom of the Master_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chiron is old and of course he knows these things. And he didn't want to get involved as much as he already was.


	3. Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is watching.

I saw it, in bright eyes where the world means nothing and the honey is tempting.

 

At their feet are crushed almonds and rotting figs, no man dares question, no man dares follow.

 

But I am no man, and so I follow.

 

The mortal boy, soft and pliant, whispers nothing but poems.

 

Words strung together, like a crown of flowers.

 

Aristos Achaion's heart sings, as beautiful as the songs of his lyre.

 

Yet his words fail him, declaring only a mortal boy's name and nothing else.

 

When they touch, I leave.

 

A mother knows when she has lost.

 

  
And I have lost.

 

 

 

_-Lament of the Mother_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achilles' mother probably didn't hate Patroclus as much as he thought she did. She's just over protective of her baby and if I was a mother, I imagine myself being like her--but much more supportive. And would come around much sooner.


	4. Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on the battlefield.

_Aristos Achaion_.

Best of the Greeks.

 

A Golden Man

who claims Golden thrones

 

The strongest of all

looked upon

like a god

with Golden hair

 

Eyes bright

they could burn

 

Voice 

even Apollo

did not ignore

 

Pride sits 

upon his shoulders

slender and lean

beautiful skin

soft as silk

and smelling of flowers

and wine

 

_Aristos Achaion._

Best of the Greeks.

 

The most 

beautiful of men

and women

 

Yet beside him

even more beautiful

than Gold

sits

the Sun.

 

 

_-Confessions of a Soldier_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of a soldier who develops a crush on Patroclus after he helped him once.


	5. Five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive (jk. I actually did have it lined up and by coincidence....).

The rush of war

 

Eating at veins

and blood

 

Hades' steps

slippery with

souls

 

Roses

will bloom

where bones

are buried

 

And some

cast

to Poseidon

for widows

to wail

 

The Golden Man

shall fall

and prove

Godlike

is all Zeus provides

 

When armor

shatters

and silence

falls

 

Gaze upon

the face

of the lover

 

Horror

pricks on white skin

 

What have I done?

 

 

- _Realization_

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Hector was shooketh.


	6. Six.

I want to be  
the nereids

to wake up   
from death

rise from  
the sea

drown   
them all

in seawater  
and foam

extinguish  
the fire

the son   
lights

and soften  
hardened clay

so   
they

may rise  
again

 

 

- _Melody of Briseis_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write from Briseis's point of view since forever.


	7. Seven.

She hears the wails of pain from her room. 

As if the heart of a lion has been torn from its chest. 

When she steps to peek outside, 

where torches are normally lit, 

darkness looms over the Greek camp. 

 

The silence that befalls frightens her. 

 

When her lover comes to hold her soft hands, 

she whispers her questions.

 

_ What has happened? _

 

_ Are you hurt? _

 

_ Have you won? _

 

His handsome and pretty face says nothing, 

but he smiles triumphantly.

 

_ Aristos Achaion's companion is dead. _

 

But she does not smile. 

She thinks of her lover. 

How much her heart would ache 

if she learned of his death. 

She would not let him go. 

And watch him rot in her bed.

She would not eat 

and the gods will beg her to.

And that, she knows, 

would be wrong.

 

There had been rumors, 

and she had heard them all. 

Two young men, 

lovers in every sense of the word, 

fighting a war she enticed. 

 

The Greek’s Champion 

is feared, 

strong, 

brazen, 

and—young man in love. 

 

The soldiers 

say little of his companion, 

but one thing is true. 

The Sweet Patroclus, 

hardened soldiers call him. 

With rough hands that heal 

and a gentleness to be admired. 

 

Poor Champion, 

how feared, 

strong, 

brazen, 

and in love. 

How broken 

would he be 

at the sight of his lovers body? 

 

_ At least it is not Paris _ .

 

There is no guilt

in her thoughts.

Because it is known,

lovers are lost in war all the time.

 

 

_ -Pity of The Woman _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the idea of Helen knowing what was happening and feeling sad for Achilles when Patroclus was killed, but also, I like that she isn't naive about war and realizes that it may be sad, but it is still their win.


	8. Eight.

"You are beautiful here,"  
Achilles sighs,  
touching the inside of Patroclus' wrist.  


He no longer draws his hands away,  
"is that so?"  
He says simply,  
not even a smile comes from his pretty lips.

"You are beautiful here, too."  
Achilles lightly drums his fingers on Patroclus' palm.  
"And here,"  
he reaches up to run a finger  
on the shell of Patroclus' ear.

This time,  
Patroclus flinches as he did before,  
when he was not use to this.  
"Stop,"  
finally a smile and Achilles is satisfied.

"The fighting is getting fiercer."  
Achilles spoils himself and lays on Patroclus' lap.  
He draws his hand up,  
playing with Patroclus' hair  
while the other reaches for a warm hand.

"Yes,"  
Patroclus sighs,  
"more and more soldiers come to me."

"But we are winning."  
Achilles then says,  
wrapping his arm around Patroclus' waist.  
"Also,  
I am here and you are here,  
that is all that matters."  
His words are muffled  
as he buries his face  
in Patroclus' stomach.

"And you are here,"  
Patroclus tangles his fingers in Achilles' hair,  
voice distant.  
"You are here  
and  
that is all that matters."

"You were worried."  
Achilles tightens his embrace.

"I was scared."

"I did not touch him, I swear it."  
Achilles sits up and  
cups Patroclus' face  
as he has done  
so  
many  
nights  
before.  
"Hector is alive."

Patroclus runs his thumb  
across Achilles' lips.  
"Can I kiss you?"

And Achilles is small again,  
and he feels the heat on his face.

Soldiers can have him  
as Aristos Achaion,  
but  
Patroclus  
can have him  
anyway he wants.

"I want you to kiss me."

So  
Patroclus  
does as he always does  
and   
kisses him.

Achilles swears   
he hears music  
and smells   
flowers.

 

In the night,  
while passionate lovers sleep,  
Agamemnon decides  
to take back his prize.

 

 

_-Promise of a Warrior_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, if you read the book you know what that ending means. I'm gonna go cry in bed while repeating "What has Hector done to me?"


End file.
